Bonded
by TakeAFlyer
Summary: We forge our steel with bonds, with comrades to our sides we soldier on. Assorted one-shots of Fire Emblem: Awakening characters. *Chapter update: In a tavern duel always bet on the Emerald Fighter..*
1. The Rolling Hills of Chon'sin

**Disclaimer**:This work is completely fiction, not-for-profit, and is not intended to infringe on any rights by and of Nintendo and/or other entities involved with production of the Fire Emblem franchise.

**Chapter:** The Rolling Hills of Chon'sin

**Characters/Pairings: **Lon'qu, Say'ri / (slight Lon'qu X Olivia)

**Summary:** Say'ri finds a hidden talent as a travel agent.

* * *

After an arduous travel to Valm the Shepards had finally found time for recovery and strategy. After traveling by sea for so long, the rest on land was welcomed by all. Lon'qu preferred to distance himself from the camp, which was becoming livelier with each character the Shepards recruited along their journey. Not so far he found a rather large tree on a hill which overlooked the camp. The tree's trunk was old and wrinkly with large branches curling about and covered with leaves. Its flowers were beginning to bloom. The blue petals were falling to the ground or blown off below by the slight breeze. For some reason Lon'qu felt very comforted by this tree and leaned against it. He began to close his eyes, slowly drifting into slumber.

"Ah, I see you've been drawn here as well." Lon'qu opened his eyes and tensed up. Not just because someone had found him, but because his intruder was a woman.

"Who's there?" He looked around, while trying to shake the thoughts of sleep from his mind.

"Tis I, Say'ri. The one you've rescued from port." She bowed slightly, a form of respect Lon'qu recognized. He looked at the woman again and recalled her from the past battle. How could he not? She was as Chon'sin as they came, the armor, the sword, her speech… She held the qualities for royalty. It annoyed him. She spoke again, "Ah, I see you're a true Chon'sin swordsman."

She gestured to his hand, which held the hilt of his sword.

"Any Chon'sin soldier is ready for battle at a moment's notice."

"Stop saying that."

"Am I false? You are Lon'qu, are you not?"

Lon'qu stayed silent, hoping that would be enough to shoo the woman away. He was not in the mood for conversation, particularly with _her_. After a few moments of silence Say'ri started to walk away. Lon'qu sighed in relief.

However only a few seconds she turned back, dashing towards him with her sword removed from its sheath. Swiftly she closed the distance between the two and attacked. Surprised but not fazed, he parried her attack.

"Are you mad?!" Lon'qu said as he pulled his sword back. Say'ri not yet satisfied swung her sword, with full intent to injure. Lon'qu parried again. Out of frustration he shifted into an aggressive stance, taking a strike of his own. Say'ri, slightly impressed blocked his attack. One hand-held the hilt, the other pushed onto the flat of her blade.

"You are Chon'sin." She said through the grit of her teeth. Once the pressure of his sword lightened, Say'ri pulled her sword back into her sheath, "Quite a unique style. Is it a mix between family styles perhaps?"

'_Nothing but the techniques of a street_ _dog.'_

"Leave." Lon'qu said. He wondered how long his patience would last.

"As generous as Prince Chrom was, I am happy seeing a fellow Chon'sin within the group. Yet he treats me with such defiance! Despite my status! Despite our shared blood!"

"I left Chon'sin a long time ago. I am no longer your kinsman."

Say'ri laughed slightly, amused. Lon'qu however kept his anger.

"You say such things but your actions betray you." Say'ri said, circling him in observation.

"You fight like Chon'sin, swiftly and confidently. Your armor, its the preference of any Chon'sin warrior. It's thin, yet strong. You forgo the thickness many knights in our company prefer because it would only get in your way, correct?"

Lon'qu stayed silent. He agreed but it didn't mean he had to say so aloud.

"Aye. You look Chon'sin as well. Your clothes aren't as traditional as mine, but such isn't expected from non-royalty. Even your features, your eyes are sharp. And your hair! Its shade matches my own."

To prove as much, she grabbed a lock of her own hair and put it in front of Lon'qu's face.

"Back!" Lon'qu barked, uncomfortable with the invasion of personal space, "Chon'sin has nothing to do with me anymore."

"Ah you say as much, but how can a bird forget the sky? You have abandoned the rolling hills? The great expanses of land? The ocean's waves? The calm lakes?"

"Nay, 'tis nothing to me." Upon realization Lon'qu internally reprimanded himself, tsking in disapproval for slipping into a Chon'sin dialect. This woman was driving him mad. Yet even now, she smiled with confidence.

"Aye of course." Say'ri said in mock approval. She walked toward the tree, touching the bark and looking at its leaves. "This reminds you of the cherry trees, do they not?"

"It looked fine for a place to nap if anything else." However as Lon'qu looked at the swirling bark as it reached up towards the sky… and how the flowers began to blossom, he remembered his past home. Nostalgia began to overwhelm him.

They weren't his unpleasant memories of Ke'ri's death... But of the rivers he used to swim in. Or the way the city buzzed with life. He missed the simple food of dried fish and rice, a common meal for the poor. Seafood was much rarer in Feroxi, as its people preferred wild game from hunts. However what he missed most was Chon'sin's spring. For a few days the cherry blossoms would float throughout the air, carried by the breeze. Like the snow that commonly fell in Ferox.

"Your wife…" The sudden turn in conversation and spontaneity of Say'ri made Lon'qu blushed heavily and snapped him back to reality.

"I have no wife." He confirmed quickly. His mind now thinking of Olivia alone, and how unfortunate it was that Say'ri was not correct.

"Ah! That lass with the cherry blossom hair is not your betrothed?" Lon'qu shook his head furiously. Now both were red with embarrassment. Say'ri's voice weakened as she spoke, "My apologies! B-but you are her lover are you not? 'Tis is what I heard as I walked about camp…"

Lon'qu felt his face twitch. He didn't like to hear others gossiping about him, especially his love life. It also didn't help that Say'ri was rather direct with her words. However, with such honesty Lon'qu felt compelled to respond just the same.

"S-She will be my wife. Eventually." He said, looking off to the side. His face felt hot, it was a rare occasion he spoke of his own desires out loud to others, "But! Speak of this to none."

"I would not dare to betray your intentions. However I cannot help but be reminded by the cherry trees of Chon'sin when I look at her. Her movements are like the petals twirling as they fall to the ground... So do you really wish to never return? To never visit your birthplace? To show her?" The thought saddened Say' her travels trying to recruit others, everywhere paled in consideration of Chon'sin. To think one who grew up there could abandon it... Such a thought was a betrayal to the person them self.

A long pause drifted by.

"I left Chon'sin because I wanted to grow stronger. That has preoccupied my mind for so long… To visit, I've never considered it."

"From what I've seen, your strength could match a clan leader's." Say'ri smirked, "Parrying my attack is no small feat. Besides what Chon'sin truly values is not strength in sword-but strength in will."

Lon'qu walked to the trunk of the tree and sat down. He looked out and admired the view. However he knew it was not as great as Chon'sin. He thought about what Say'ri said. She was right.

Being on the streets, in the slums, it was hard but Lon'qu didn't hate it. However when Ke'ri died, he found himself lost and without purpose. Guilt consumed him. He only thought about training, that he could find some meaning through that somehow. It was either that or go mad.

In Ferox things began to change. Through the luck of the gods he ended up in Basilio's service. He began to grow stronger and was able to be useful for once. Serving the Khan, it made Lon'qu feel a sense of purpose again.

And now here he was with the Shepards. He looked towards the camp. He could make out some people walking about, who who they were or their intentions Lon'qu didn't know. Regardless those people were his... comrades and accepted him. In his own way he was trying to interact with them, but that could only be seen through grunts and gestures. He could only believe the others knew his true intentions, as anything more than that was too challenging.

If anything, he knew Olivia understood him. She understood his clumsiness with others, his desire to improve in skill. It surprised him how he was not scared of her, he did not shrink from her touch. Instead he found himself reaching out to her, desiring her touch. Her smile... Just that could give him strength. This was his will: to protect her, to protect his comrades, to protect Basilio, to protect everyone he cared for. Although he would never say it out loud, he was thankful Basilio sent him to journey with Prince Chrom.

Say'ri came to sit down on the opposite side of the tree admiring a different, yet similar view.

"Perhaps..." Lon'qu said.

"Perhaps?" Say'ri asked in excitement.

"Perhaps once this war is over and perhaps if Basilio will allow, I will visit Chon'sin." Lon'qu paused, stringing his thoughts together carefully. After all, he was not one to babble, "Travelling with this group of people has helped me come to terms with my past. Perhaps returning will not be as painful as I imagined."

"Yes, once this war is finished. You will help, so will Prince Chrom I know..." Say'ri said in comfort. For so long she had struggled alone dealing with silly politics, recruiting others, and dealing with Yen'fay's betrayal. It had been hard. However after joining this group, it finally felt like Naga was smiling down on her.

"Tell me when you return. I will guide you and your wife to all you have missed after your years of absence!" Say'ri said in excitement, "There's the hills of Rey'la... Or the city of Ao? Their seafood is the freshest I've tasted!"

Was she too giddy? Say'ri thought. Perhaps, but she allowed herself to continue. She hadn't felt like this since her parents had been slain. With these feelings Say'ri remembered how Chon'sin was before its troubles, the greatest the land had seen yet. She remembered escaping, how her kinsmen had abandoned such hope with the chaos surrounding them. The very land was crying out in pain. She wanted her people to regain their pride, for Chon'sin to be free once more. That was her will.

The two fell into a comfortable silence. And in rare turn of events, Lon'qu felt compelled to speak.

"… On one condition." He said rather quietly. His own outburst made him blush slightly.

"Aye?"

"You must visit Ferox, and I will show you around as well."

Unbeknownst to both each of them were smiling, founded from a bond created through the memories of Chon'sin.

"Aye."

* * *

**A/N: **I hope these two stayed in-character. My main concern was how Lon'qu responded to Say'ri. It feels like it would take time for him to talk like this, but hopefully their conversations made it feel like he was comfortable speaking. It seems like Say'ri would be the one to make him open up through her honesty and persistence. And the thought of Lon'qu speaking in a Chon'sin dialect whenever he got worked up amused me much more than I'd like to admit.

And that's it! My first submitted work of fanfiction. I think these one-shots will be good for practice before jumping into larger multi-chapter works. Constructive advice and feedback would be most appreciated, it'll definitely help me know how to continue on from here. I have a (small) list of ideas for future one-shots but nothing more than the summaries written out. If there's any character(s) anyone wants to see next feel free to write so in your review. If they're on my list I'll try to work on that one next!

Finally, to everyone who read this: thank you for taking time to read this work of mine. Hopefully you enjoyed it!


	2. Hall Monitor

**Chapter Two:** Hall Monitor

**Focused Characters/Pairings: **Frederick, Robin / (slight Frederick x Cherche), (Chrom x Robin), other small mentions

**Summary: **It was the final stretch back to Ylisstol and Frederick's making sure the Shepards finish strong.

* * *

"Frederick… What are you hanging on every tent entrance?" Lissa could never guess what Frederick was doing half the time. He always said it was for the Shepards' betterment,but his deeds were so abstract she could never find the relation. At the same time it was fairly amusing. Perhaps this would be just as good as the recruitment posters.

"This is a reminder of the new rules that were recently enforced to combat the poor behavior plaguing this camp. Even if the war is over and Grangel slain, it is no excuse to leave dishware out after meals." He stepped back allowing Lissa full access to the poster. He was quite proud of his work.

"Wait, what IS this?"

She snatched the poster off the tent flap, slightly wrinkling it. She angled her head and tilted the poster, exaggerating her gradual understanding of the words. Frederick was not amused.

"_The Shepard's Guide to Decency and Proper Behavior? _What kind of rules are these?"

"Princess Lissa, I would appreciate it if you would-"

"Frederick, I know you're a stickler for the rules and all that, but I doubt even your toughest punishments couldn't stop everyone from doing… Whatever they want to do. Besides, no one's doing any harm."

"So you do understand the rampant misconduct? It's unacceptable for a soldier on campaign. Everyone's... indecent behavior is distracting them from their duties." It was clear the all the engagement announcements were to blame for this. Shepards were found in groups of two and couples were found to be missing on hours at end. In short, everyone was struck by Cupid's arrow.

"But the campaign is over!"

"Not until we return to Ylisstol." He took the poster from Lissa's hand, smoothing the wrinkles out. "You do know even married couples in the militia do not share quarters. Perhaps I assumed too much of everyone, that they could control their… urges."

"Urges? They're expressions of love!" Lissa said with a slight swoon. Frederick sighed, the princess was always the romantic. His straight face only worked Lissa up. "IF you hadn't noticed we've been at war for the past months. That tends to make the situation rather life or death, don't ya think? Now that it's finished of COURSE everyone's going to follow their hearts."

As Lissa made her point Frederick reapplied the poster onto the tent. This time much more firmly. He only raised a brow to her, not buying it.

"Come on! Everyone's happy, don't spoil the fun."

"If they follow these rules, I won't have to."

"And these rules, they're so silly! 'No one of the opposite sex allowed in personal tents after sunset… Leaving camp in parties of two must be reported to Frederick beforehand specifying destination and time allotment?' Frederick no one is going to follow these."

"The punishment is quite strict. I would hope the others would think twice before doing so."

"How 'bout you? I bet Cherche's disappointed you've been focusing on everyone's relationships instead of your own." Lissa said, motioning towards the ring on his left finger.

Frederick cleared his throat.

"Ever since our engagement we have spent a large amount of time together, all within these rules' specificity. That includes: time of day, setting, and activity. If anything Cherche and I prove these rules do not hamper relationships but rather strengthens them." Frederick paused. He instantly realized how he appreciated how calm and collected Cherche was. She performed her duty very well and to the highest standards. Her dedication towards Virion was like his own to Chrom. It was only one of the many reasons he had grown to love her. With a softer voice he continued. "Unlike the others Cherche respects the rules. She understands my vigilance towards this matter. In fact she's been nothing but supportive."

"That's actually… Rather sweet. But seriously Frederick no one is going to follow these rules. I know that for a fact."

"How so?" Frederick asked, a tone of false innocence evident.

"Duh! Chrom and Robin? They've been inseparable after he proposed to her-literally hours after the final battle. And I haven't believed her for a moment when she said they were only discussing strategy in his tent. In fact-" Lissa stopped, realizing the gravity of her mistake.

Frederick bowed and thanked her. After giving the poster a pull and seeing it stay firmly in place, he dismissed himself to visit Chrom's tent.

Lissa could only stamp her foot and call out to him, "At least don't tell them it was me who sent the killjoy!"

* * *

Frederick waited before announcing himself. He swore he could hear some shuffling. Robin was here, he knew it.

"Milord?"

"Frederick, is that you? J-just one moment." Chrom called out, his voice stressed.

Obediently Frederick followed Chrom's orders, albeit knowing the royal couple were hiding their tracks. He heard a thud and so he rushed inside.

"Are you alright milord?!"

Chrom took a few steps to his left, obscuring a part of Frederick's sight.

"Y-yes. Thank you for your concern… Now what was it you wanted to talk about? I was in the middle of… I was about to…" With all his stumbles and pauses Chrom was the furthest image of noble blood.

Chrom's fumbled words matched his appearance. His hair was disheveled, as if he was taking style advice from Stahl. The various straps and buttons of his clothing were loose and undone. His cape hanging from one shoulder, leaving the fabric to drag across the ground. And he kept looking down, as if it would hide the color in his cheeks.

All in all Chrom was a bumbling mess.

Frederick tried to peer around Chrom. Despite Chrom's fidgeting Frederick's height allowed him full view.

"Milord… There's a lump on your bed."

"I suppose there is."

Frederick gave a look, like a parent scolding his child. He walked towards the cot and pulled the covers; revealing the famed Shepard tactician curled up in hiding.

"This is what I wished to discuss."

"Well hello Frederick. How are you?" Robin stood up and smoothed out the wrinkles of her dress. Although she was just as flushed as Chrom was, she was much more composed than her fiance.

"You two are examples for the camp, yet with this behavior you're insinuating the others to follow suit! You do realize how preoccupied everyone seems to be with each other as of late?"

"I-I, well if this has affected the chores or training then there should be some action taken. But Frederick, the war's done-I don't see what's wrong with cutting some slack."

"_Cutting some slack_. Wise words from the future Exalt."

Robin butted in, saving Chrom from his poor word choice, "We haven't slacked on our duties Frederick."

She stood next to Chrom with her arms folded. Two against one.

"Oh and do tell what… _duties_ you were performing just now."

"We were having a strategic meeting." Frederick raised a brow to Chrom.

"It was plans for the remaining Plegian extremists hiding in the border outskirts. Some which we'll attend to before returning to Ylisstol. Once we finished, well we…" Chrom trailed off. Robin sighed at her fiance, he always managed to find a way to shoot himself in the foot with his words. However, it was also a part of his charm and their rather strange courtship.

"The plans are on his table. As much as your concerned with everyone's behavior Frederick, everyone has been fighting well. The moral has never been higher. "

"That does not excuse the decency one should be held to as a soldier."

"I understand. I will personally talk to everyone about this-so _please_" Robin said with slight agitation in her voice. It was evident she was disappointed by the sudden interruption. "don't ruin the others' happiness. I don't think you'd want to interrupt people when they are... intimate."

"You make it sound like I have no concern over the others' happiness. Rest assured my 'nagging' is nothing but consideration for the camp's well being."

Robin still stood with her arms crossed. Chrom looked like a guilty man awaiting trial.

"Well then now that I have discussed my concerns and I see my presence here is not welcomed-I will continue on with my duties... And Prince Chrom, remember you have guard duty tonight."

Before leaving Frederick walked toward the opposite side of the bed-nothing but canvas. The couple, slightly confused watched Frederick put up one of his posters. It was in such a location he was sure Chrom (and Robin as well) would be reminded of his duties to camp at sunset and sundown.

"Very well. Milord, milady. I did not know you two were eager for an heir already." And with that quip Frederick left.

The two blushed in response, yet it did not faze Robin so much.

"Finally he's gone." Quickly Robin pulled at the straps of Chrom's clothing, giving her better access to remove them altogether.

Chrom, though delighted at the touch of his fiance, pulled her hands down. With Frederick's interruption a startling realization came across him: the entire camp were imaging all sorts of things about the two of them at this very moment. And although the others' imagination weren't necessarily false, it was enough to keep Chrom grounded to reality.

"Perhaps we should not continue… with what… we were doing."

"Did Frederick's words bother you that much? I read those dumb rules already, I can stay for a few more hours." Robin pulled out of Chrom's grasp, doubling her efforts to bring back the atmosphere the two held before Frederick's interruption. She managed to slide her hands underneath his shirt, running her hands against his bare back and chest. He shivered from her touch.

Quickly before losing complete control he stepped back. His arms in front of him in an "x".

"I should really prepare for guard duty. And some fresh air sounds very good right now. Why don't you talk to the others about what Frederick said? I imagine you do not want him visiting us again."

Robin frowned. And turned her back to him.

"In the future it seems like there will be nothing to interrupt." It bothered her that her charm wasn't working, that Frederick's stuffy attitude was enough to deter her fiance from her touch.

"T-That's! Really low…" Chrom grabbed Robin's hands, looking her in the eyes. "We'll have plenty of time to ourselves once we return to Ylisstol. And we still have our duties to the camp. I can't in good conscious remain here with you knowing that. Like it or not, Frederick has a point."

Robin pouted. It was true.

"I'll talk to the others about this."

"Wait." Chrom walked near. With his thumb he lifted her chin, giving her a caste kiss on the lips. "I suppose this will have to do for now."

"It'll make due somehow." She said with a smile. "Oh and Chrom?"

"Yes?" The blush still lingering on his face.

"Make sure you fix your cape before walking out in broad daylight."

Robin walked outside, pondering what to do next.

Even if Frederick was correct, she was still frustrated with the knight. She knew he knew best... But still wanted some kind of revenge for his intrusion. Her mind worked at this as she made the rounds about camp.

* * *

Frederick was quite pleased with his progress today. He had managed to hang posters on every tent and remind the Shepards of the rules.

The first place he visited after Chrom was the infirmary. Although they had won the battle, everyone emerged with some injury. Kellam in particular received a nasty blow to his arm. Maribelle did guarantee the armored knight's full recovery but it didn't stop Panne from staying at his bedside nonetheless.

She was quite confident in his recovery as well, stating "any mate of mine would not succumb to such an injury."

Frederick had to admit, seeing her there revealed a new side to the taguel. She always came off a bit rough to the others. He was quite sure the two weren't engaged in anything particularly indecent with the knight's arm in a sling. However the balm he saw on the table stand did attract his attention, it wasn't something the healers normally used. Panne told him it was a taguel remedy... Yet Frederick couldn't fully believe that was its intended purpose. None the less, he expressed his wishes for a fast recovery, hung a poster, and continued on.

The other Shepards he visited generally shared the same disdain. Grudgingly he remembered Gaius calling him a pervert for trying to walk in on everyone. It seemed like he wasn't happy when he came by the mess tent and caught him and Sumia together.

"I see you've been quite busy dear." Frederick turned around to see Cherche, smiling. He greeted her with a tired smile of his own, gleaming when he saw her wearing his ring. She said she wasn't one to be charmed with gold, but proposal was the exception.

"It's been hard maintain order about camp. It feels as if the Shepards have succumbed to their desires. I went to Chrom and Robin to discuss that and Robin looked as if she wanted to tear my head off!"

"You entered their tent?" Cherche asked. Inwardly she groaned, she had received a lot of complaints of her fiance today. And although she knew Frederick could be rather strict, she didn't realize it had come to this extent. She was able to calm down the others and get them to understand. In particular Robin seemed to understand quite well. Now all that was left was to get Frederick to understand as well.

"_His _tent. Yes. Even those two I have to keep focused."

"But you can understand them, can't you dear?"

"I cannot understand how they can neglect their duties. It seems only you understands my plight." Frederick sighed, relaxing as Cherche drew him close. Out of everyone, she understood his loyalty as a knight. The others called him strict and stuffy, but not her.

"Remember when you proposed to me? It was the happiest day of my life. And I feel that happiness when we spend time together. That must be the same for the others."

Frederick nodded.

"So if I may, I'd ask of you to consider the others' feelings. The rules should be followed... But don't be too strict. If they're too mean to you about that, I'll talk to them myself." Cherche smiled. Though underneath that, Frederick knew a scary determination laid bare.

Perhaps, as Princess Lissa put it, these 'expressions of love' were not so indecent or immoral after all.

"Why don't you come to my tent?" Frederick raised his brow at the sudden invitation.

Cherche quickly defended herself.

"Oh for tea! Come, you could use some relaxation."

"That does sound enjoyable… And I am rather tired. I spent all night preparing the posters."

"And it's quite the literary work. Come. There's still time before sunset approaches, there are rules to follow after all."

He kissed her cheek in appreciation.

"Lead the way."

* * *

"Here's the rest of the dirty dishes from supper Frederick." Robin said with a grin on her face. It was her second trip to him with dirty dishes, an excuse to see him doing chores, he guessed. It was a rare sight to see him punished after all. "I never expected you to conduct your own _indecent behavior_.

"It was an honest mistake." Frederick said, keeping his focus on washing. It was quite silly of him in the first place. "It wasn't anything indecent, I only fell asleep after tea with Cherche. I should've been more aware of my own weariness."

"Don't blame her, I was the one who called her out yesterday. That's why she didn't wake you in time."

"Ah. I see your tactical mind knows no bounds. I can now truly understand the fear of our opponents." Frederick recalled waking up, it was well past sundown with supper nearly over. And once he exited the tent-there Robin was, smiling.

"Now you praise my talents."

"Well if you excuse me I have to finish this. Although I'm sure you'd rather stay and watch."

"Actually I do." To Frederick's surprise Robin grabbed a cloth and sat next to him, dring the dishes he just washed.

"As chief tactician I have to follow the rules as well, don't I? You see Chrom and I left camp grounds yesterday without telling you and as such, we punished ourselves."In reality Chrom and Robin only took a step outside the camp's borders, but that was all that was needed to break the rules. "Chrom's polishing the armor as we speak."

"Well I'm glad you two took my words to heart. Although I would still like to apologize, it was rather inappropriate of me to walk into Prince Chrom's tent; despite my intentions. I'm truly happy for your engagement."

"Likewise. I got rather upset yesterday for no good reason." Robin paused. "I do appreciate everything you do around camp. Without your eye for detail, I can't imagine how we'd be able to function."

"You praise me too much milady. I am only performing my duty." Although deep down Frederick was really happy to hear words of praise.

"And I think you're going to make a fine queen."

"Oh gods, there's that isn't there?" Robin said. "I keep wanting to forget that. It feels like the court won't be so welcoming towards an amnesiac, especially if she is to be their queen."

"Out of what you've been through the court is what you fear the most?"

"My strategies are for battles not politics."

"None the less, I wouldn't want to be the receiving end of your sword or wit. I will abide by my words, you'll be a fine queen."

Robin put down the towel for a moment.

"You'll help me right?"

Frederick turned to her and kneeled.

"Of course."

* * *

**A/N: **Again, I hope I've kept everyone in character. Thanks for reading!


	3. Tea Time

**Chapter Three:** Tea Time

**Word Count:  
**2,522

**Focused Characters/Pairings: **Maribelle, Lissa, (lil' bit of Ricken) / (slight Lissa x Ricken)

**Summary: **Tea time is for conversation, not life changing revelations.

* * *

The clock struck two. Upon hearing the chimes Maribelle prepared her tea. These actions were only habit, not performed out of conscious decision-making. She even brewed her favorite blend, but tasted nothing. There was no guest. The only sounds came from dishware clanking against each other, the pitch amplified painfully in her head.

She sat there, befuddled and frustrated. Sitting there did nothing to fix her troubles, but at the same time she couldn't sway from habits. So she sipped her tea daintily, sat with perfect posture, and ate politely.

At least she kept up with appearances. If anything Maribelle had that.

* * *

_"You're considering marriage? I hope it is not any of the court's sons... You are much too good for them."_

_Maribelle said while passing the honey to Lissa. The receiver generously accepted the jar and took a hearty dollop. It was treat from their lodging's pantry, a small fort. So they were allowed greater luxuries in the form of better tea, proper chairs, and tablecloths. In reality the set up was rather simple, but after weeks of camping their furniture may as well have been gilded. _

_However neither the food nor the furniture could compare to the conversation._

_"Definitely NOT one of those stuffy guys. It's someone within our camp, a Shepard. I really like him… like 'love' like._

_"And pray tell, WHO is he?" _

_"It's…" Lissa watched as Maribelle set her tea aside, staring directly at her with full concentration. Even if she was her friend, Maribelle's glare was still intimidating. There was no way to predict how she would react… So there was nothing left to do but actually utter the name. It was the plan anyways… At least it was before tea. _

_"You may be surprised… But don't get too worked up." Lissa took a sip to cleanse her throat. Yet it felt like the honey made the tea stick to her throat._

_"It's Ricken."_

_Maribelle nearly spat out her tea. To maintain composure she patted her lips dry with her napkin.  
_

_"Were you not the one who called him a duckling? I-I could never fathom you felt that way. How long has this been a thing?" Even though the two sat face-to-face, to Maribelle they were worlds apart._

_"Well, he's learning okay? At first we started training, you know to help each other improve. And I guess through that I saw a different side to him." Lissa's gaze turned from her friend to the rafters, with no particular plank in focus. "He's very brave, loyal, dedicated-"_

_Maribelle brought her cup down to the table forcefully. Albeit not loudly, but distinctly.  
_

_"I'm just… My mind is blank."_

_"Well I didn't want to just blurt this out to anyone-"_

_"Am I an 'anyone'?"_

_"No! It's just… It's the first time this stuff happened to me. I wanted to keep it to myself before I felt things were, you know, serious. I promise I haven't told anyone, not even Chrom."_

_"And you are certain. Ricken?" Somehow the name sounded rough to Maribelle's ears._

_"I mean he rescued you right? Doesn't that mean something?"_

_"While I am grateful for his service-there are other matters to consider with marriage. You are not some court lady who flirts with suitors; you are our halidom's princess!"_

_"I'm completely serious here Maribelle! Geez, can't you see that at all?" This time Lissa brought her cup down onto the table.  
_

_"While I could simply say ignore everyone, your position forbids it. I'm being honest darling, it's what you want me to be correct?"_

_"Well honesty sucks. Can't you soften up just a bit?" _

_"He's still young, and you-only nineteen." Maribelle spoke before realizing she had uttered the words. They came out instantly and without hesitation. _

_ "Chrom was twenty when he married Robin." Lissa countered. _

_"And see how much criciticm she's received because of it? How they say she's a Plegian spy? It is a platform for rebellion. And while her work in the war has proven her loyalty to most… The thread of doubt still lingers."_

_"I…" Lissa couldn't object. She knew there was a division with the castle's officials and advisers who disapproved of Robin. It only made Chrom's transition to rule harder. While Robin said she found the backhanded comments amusing… It had to have bother her still. _

_"So what will they say about Ricken? An unproven mage kid who comes from a tarnished family-"_

_"Maribelle."_

_"Let me finish, it is rude to interrupt someone's speech. They will say he was lucky to win the princess's heart. This way he restored his family's name tenfold, greater than their original influence. Did he love her? Well she loved him, that's more important. Regardless… Who would refuse the opportunity to marry into the royal family?" _

_"Stop."_

_"Does he regard you in the same light? Have you ever considered he talked to you because your Chrom's sister? It's quite a strange situation you are in, that you must wonder if he favors your brother more than you."_

_Maribelle took a sip of her tea. It was cold and tasted sickly sweet. _

_Lissa sat with her head down, hands clenched. _

_"You're awful."_

_"I'm only explaining-"_

_"Explaining? More like attacking. I thought my best friend would be happy for me and we could talk_ about_ silly things like what I should wear on dates or wedding stuff." Lissa stood up and slammed her teacup down again, this time nearly shattering it. Its contents spelt everywhere, staining the white tablecloth. "Forget it. It was dumb of me to think you'd care. Forget it."_

_Lissa left the mess and her friend, slamming the door on the way out. _

_It was the first time since Lissa became her friend that Maribelle truly felt alone._

* * *

"Uh Maribelle? Mind if I join you?" She looked up and saw Ricken who snapped her out of her daze.

There was a guest for tea.

"It's rude to refuse a guest. You may sit." She poured him some tea, and focused her full attention to serving him. Was it out of guilt? Or a mind block?

She eyed him as he took a sip. From his grip to his posture Ricken maintained proper manners. He was taught well.

"Would you like some sugar?"

"A lump or two sounds good. Thanks."

From looking at him Maribelle never would had guessed his family was going through hardship. Yet it had to be on his mind constantly. As a child she remembered her mother nudging her away towards Ricken, to play with the other children because he wasn't "suited for her". Yet not even her parents could restrain her.

Apparently an uncle squandered their wealth through foreign investments. That was the sugarcoated version. In reality the man was a drunkard and a gambler who tried to hit it big after losing a hefty investment. It wasn't until she was ten that Ricken confided to her the truth.

"H-Hey Maribelle… Uh you could stop now." He pulled back his cup, swirling his spoon in an effort to dissolve the five cubes Maribelle unconsciously plunked in.

"Oh, my apologies… Have you by any chance talked to Lissa today? Did she say anything?" It was half-hearted apology. She was focused on something else.

Ricken reddened at the name.

"Not really. She's been in a bad mood lately but didn't tell my why. It seemed like something she wanted to deal with on her own so I dropped it."

Maribelle smiled. Lissa was too good of a friend for someone like her.

"Actually." Ricken piped up. "I kind of wanted to speak to you about that-err her, Lissa. I mean."

"…Go on."

Ricken's eyes darkened and focused, as if he was conjuring a spell. Was it a trick of the shadows? His large hat and short height usually made him look younger, but right now he looked much older than his seventeen years of age.

I.. I came to ask you for your blessing to propose to Lissa."

Faced with such sincerity Maribelle sat dumbfounded. Not because Lissa was right (after all she was a lovely girl, who wouldn't fall for her?). Internally she knew that Ricken felt the same the very moment Lissa confessed to just chose to ignore it. What shocked her was her own idiocy.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Maribelle took longer and longer to reply. Her expression was unreadable, was she upset? Horrified? Happy? He could never tell what was up with Maribelle.

Unable to wait, Ricken spoke.

"I wanted to ask her now. All this fighting's made me realize I want to protect and be with her. And if anything were to happen… I just wanted to have no regrets."

He was greeted with more silence.

"B-but if she says yes… I don't know when we'll get married."

"Why?" Ricken sighed in relief, it was one word but Maribelle spoke.

"It's because I'm selfish. I know Lissa doesn't give a damn about what others think but I can't get married without knowing I've proven myself. Everyone just sees me as a kid."

"Well then what is your plan? It's rude to keep a lady waiting." She eyed him cautiously. There was no way he could just leave Lissa waiting for ages, not if she had anything to say about it.

"I was offered enrollment into the Mage College's advanced courses before we left for Valm. Their placement tests were a breeze and Miriel's been helping me get ready. She's taken those classes and then some. It's not much, but it's a step. I can't become a royal advisor with no credentials, can I?"

"And pray tell, why are you telling me all this?"

"Well you're her best friend. She always talks about you. It only seemed right."

"I assume you spoke to Chrom already?"

"Yesterday. I've never heard him stammer like that before, but after he got over the initial shock he approved. It went better than I hoped. In my head I saw a wall of fire behind him as he pointed Flachion at me."

He continued on.

"I think Chrom didn't realize how much Lissa grew. Not to blame him for anything, being the new Exalt's a busy job and everything.

"I believe it was the same case for you as well."

"It must've been my growth spurt right? I checked this morning. This past year I've grown half an inch. I think I'm going to get my growth spurt soon."

"It's not your height dear. Honestly I haven't noticed a difference with that silly hat of yours."

"Well... Lissa's has been helping me learn the healing arts… Although it's more like I'm her supply gopher while she treats people. So I'm growing stronger."

It seemed like Ricken always found something new to say about his training. So many that the conversation swung in different directions constantly. It was fun talking about magic, training, and their comrades. These were things Maribelle couldn't bring up to the aristocrats back home.

Talking to those people was such a chore.

Creating true friendships with them were rare, most talk wasn't meaningful. At balls she saw ladies flirt with every man, eying them as prizes rather than people. Later they would create their stupid circles and gossip over the empty compliments they received. Those same people who ridiculed her for pointing out their shallowness.

The Shepards were completely different. Although... Interesting Maribelle preferred them over her upper class peers. At least whatever bonds she had with her comrades was something genuine.

How could she have said otherwise to Lissa?

"I'll approve."

"What?"

"Go and ask Lissa."

"Seriously?"

"I'm only rambling, but I don't believe she will decline."

"Wait! What do you mean-"

"You will see when you ask her, won't you? Now go so I can enjoy my cold tea."

As curious as he was Ricken took his cue to leave. At least he survived asking Maribelle-in retrospect he was just as scared now as he was yesterday. Even if Chrom was the Exalt and strongest person he knew, Maribelle with her small frame and all could still strike fear in any man's heart with words alone.

At the same time he appreciated her curt words with their honesty. And so when she gave her blessing, Ricken smiled, knowing she meant it.

"And bring her calla lilies when you do ask-yellow ones, those are her favorites."

* * *

For the tenth time that minute Maribelle looked out the window. Since her conversation with Ricken a few days ago she was dying to know what happened. Did he ask? Did she say yes? No one around the fort said anything. And despite her curiosity, Maribelle couldn't bring herself to approach Lissa. So she stayed in her quarters, preparing for tomorrow's march.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

The princess stood in the entryway of Maribelle's quarters, hands behind her back. No one spoke except for a few stutters of attempted conversation.

"I'm sorry."

"I apologize."

"I know you only meant the best for telling me those things… And I knew you could've been right. I just didn't want to hear it."

"As much as I would love to leave matter to that. I spoke not out of sheer concern. Perhaps I was…"

"Jealous?" Lissa giggled.

"Well I felt a tinge of that, but no. My crudeness came from frustration. You're my best friend Lissa, and well not even realizing what you were feeling… I began to doubt our bond."

"Maribelle, we're always going to be besties don't worry. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"Never mind that... Did he ask?"

"Well… Ta-daaa!" Lissa revealed her hands, waving them cheerfully. On her left ring finger she wore a new silver signet ring, emblazoned with Ricken's family's seal. "He popped the question earlier this afternoon."

"Good. He didn't dally."

"What?"

"Nothing darling. The ring's beautiful."

"Thanks. I think so too. I didn't want something flashy."

"Hey Lissa?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think I'm too blunt to others?"

"Now what's with this all of a sudden?"

"I've always spoken my mind… I've always thought it is important to do so. On the other hand... My bluntness hurt you and has offended others, have I been wrong?"

"I think it's cool, not that many people have the courage to do the same."

"The flattery is comforting, but not what I wish to hear."

"Well, if anything try consider the other person's feelings more. And if someone frustrates you… Try to consider their viewpoint. It'll broaden your horizons, that's ladylike, right?"

"I'm not worried about becoming ladylike… I'm more concerned with being a good friend."

"And you are!"

"Really?"

"You always mean for the best. Trust me Maribelle, you're the best… And my maid of honor?""

"Dear, there's no one nearly as qualified as I. Oh we need to start planning, even if the event isn't immediate."

"Maribelle?"

"Yes darling?"

"How did you he was going to ask me? And how did you know we weren't going to get married right away?" Lissa put her hands on her hips, smiling curiously.

"Why don't I tell you over a cup of tea?"

* * *

**A/N: **I know it's been a while since an update, and while I'm not completely happy with how this piece turned out I still wanted to churn this out. On the upside I have a better grasp of what I want to improve on so hopefully everyone will be able to see an improvement in writing in later chapters/works. The next chapter should come soon, I already know who I want to highlight this time around.

As always, thank you for reading!

**P.S. **I'm a silly goose who can't edit very well.


	4. Scent

**Chapter Four:** Scent

**Word Count: **2,478

**Focused Characters/Pairings: **(Kellam x Panne)

**Summary: **If anything, she wouldn't forget him.

* * *

'So far, so good.'

The large room in front of him was clear, no enemy in sight. Despite the lull in action Kellam took his duty seriously, if he failed here the Shepards would be vulnerable to a surprise flank attack.

The current battle was against Plegian bandits who remained after the war's end. Although their crown ceased funding them, they found their gold through vulnerable Ylissean border towns and villages. It meant the Shepards' victory march to Ylisstol would not be peaceful.

For tackling this stronghold Robin developed a simple plan: a swift rout. She put an emphasis on cavalry and Pegasus knights leading the charge while those on foot would finish off stragglers. Those with limited mobility would guard key defensive points.

Which meant once again Kellam was left behind for guard duty. Not that he minded, it came with being a knight. Although he had to admit, it hurt a little watching everyone leave him.

'Leaving me here, it means they trust me… right?'

There was a slight breeze in the air. The torches along the wall flickered. The shift in environment made Kellam grip his lance and look for oncoming foes. There was no one, but saw something glimmer amongst the fire's light.

Instinctively he dove sideways. Looking to where he stood an iron arrow was lodged in the ground.

'Looks like the enemy noticed me for once.' Kellam sighed, 'And I hoped I wouldn't have to fight this time around.'

Sometimes he even passed for a statue.

Kellam moved behind a column for cover for time to assess the situation. The archer couldn't be alone; they hardly ever were when attacking this close.

On cue he saw a swordsman charging forward. Kellam threw his last javelin, hoping it would down the foe from afar. Sadly the lance lodged itself into the enemy's shoulder, who took a short moment to remove the spear and snap it in half. The action provoked him rather than dealt damage.

Upon a lance's length away Kellam revealed himself. The swordsman slashed diagonally across Kellam's chest, but was surprised to see him stay still. Upon contact the sword recoiled harmlessly, dazing the bandit. Kellam took the opportunity to strike. This time the bandit was unable to remove this lance.

Keeping on his toes Kellam kept moving from column to column, trying to pinpoint the archer's position. However he could not roam far without leaving the passageway unprotected.

With his eyes on the horizon Kellam jumped when he heard a yell to his immediate left. Turning quickly he saw a hand axe in mid air towards him. He could only manage a step backwards as he felt the blade cut through the small opening at his collarbone.

The strike told him two things:

One, such a precise strike called for a skilled foe-one who was much stronger than the swordsman.

Two, he was in serious trouble.

Luckily the cut was not quite so deep and the pain was bearable. Though the amount of blood running down his armor was concerning. Kellam tried hard not to look as he applied a vulnerary to the wound, which slowed the bleeding.

The step back left Kellam vulnerable and the archer took another shot. Luckily it was a miss, but he could feel the arrow whiz past his cheek. He quickly got back into cover.

'Two ranged weapons? This… Isn't looking good.'

If anything… _maybe_ reinforcements would arrive once the larger skirmish was finished. It had been two hours since the Shepard's invasion; surely that was enough time for the others.

Until then he was on his own.

The column he was hiding behind was slowly crumbling… It was clear he had to go on the offensive-despite how suicidal it seemed. At this rate he would slowly die through attrition.

His charge was slow, but was able to prevent most damage. Using his armor he angled his body to receive each projectile, reducing damage. His skin and their weapons never made contact, but wherever he was struck, Kellam was sure a welt formed.

Once in range Kellam aimed his lance towards the bandit's leg, retracting when the opponent brought his axe downward onto the shaft. If his weapon was destroyed now-he would die.

"So you wish to taste my axe again Ylissean dog?" The bandit was panting heavily. It seemed like he sprinted a long distance, which was the only advantage Kellam had. Upon closer inspection the man wore many rings and heavy bracelets-treasures pilfered from nearby homes. The man's bloodthirsty eyes looked at Kellam's wound, pleased. "I'll give you this, you're a sturdy fellow."

Kellam went on the defensive, focusing on dodging swings. He tried to ignore the arrows bouncing off of his armor.

"Oh no lad, you won't be able to win this way." Slowly the bandit was gaining more ground as Kellam back stepped with each dodge.

'He's right. f I don't act now, he'll definitely get me in the corner.'

Kellam gave up on finding an opening-the bandit swung too quickly to give him a chance. With no other options he charged forward-shoulder first, knocking the bandit onto the ground. Instantly he felt a burst of pain coming from his wound but Kellam continued on. With the bandit pinned down under the weight of armor, he closed his eyes and nodded-an acknowledgment of defeat?

"Clever." Kellam ignored the bandit's mock praise and struck. Out of mercy Kellam finished the man with one strike. He never did enjoyed screaming... or a mess. To get up he leaned onto his lance. His head felt woozy.

'I managed well, even with the disadvantages.'

The bandit managed to strike the same small area twice. There was no doubt in Kellam's mind his left collarbone was broken now. He had to keep pressure with his hand to avoid bleeding out quickly, but it was only a matter of time before he fainted.

Then his heart lurched. The battle was not over yet. Kellam forgot about the archer once the volleys stopped while finishing off the axe-wielder.

Kellam looked behind him to see the archer running down the hallway. His comrade became a decoy. With fatigue and pain setting in Kellam could only watch as the Shepards' faces ran through his head. One of them could potentially die because of him.

But what could he do? In hindsight the dim swordsman was clever to break his last javelin, which laid in two a few feet away… Was there really nothing he could do?

No, that was not an option. Sure the Shepards forgot about him, but they depended on him. He couldn't fail here. It would make him completely useless.

In a stroke of pure innovation Kellam looked to the fallen bandit, prying the axe from the corpse's hand. The unfamiliar weapon felt heavy. Regardless he had to try and chucked the axe as hard as he could. He imagined Vaike laughing at his poor form.

Out of sheer luck or by Naga's will, Kellam hit his mark. Upon impact the archer instantly crumpled, the axe was lodged into the poor man's spine. Perhaps a class change was in order.

Well, he had to live through this first.

With nothing but silence and blood surrounding him Kellam took to his original post, only this time slumped in the entrance. With no other enemy around Kellam used the rest of his vulnerary, cursing when the recovery item did not close the wound nor slow the bleeding. It only dulled the pain making his death somewhat less pleasant.

He stayed put. There was no use venturing down the hallway for a healer. He could easily encounter another foe, and this time Kellam had no more tricks or strength to fight with.

He was beginning to lose consciousness, his head kept dipping down begging for him to close his eyes.

A crackle through the air woke alerted him. He knew that sound… Someone was charging a lightning spell.

Mustering his strength he stood up to face his next foe, but had to lean on the wall for support.

A flash lit up the room. Kellam lost his balance once he felt a sharp pain coming from his leg, making him fall down. The smell of fried flesh did nothing to ease his mind.

He craned his neck to see a mage eying his fallen comrades as he walked towards Kellam. It was strange to see a mage bandit, but since Plegia had invested into these rogue fighters during the war-anything seemed likely.

'This is it. The last thing I will see is this leaky ceiling. Sorry guys... I'm sorry Panne.'

Despite the fear gripping his heart Kellam could not bring himself to close his eyes. Perhaps he had some morbid impulse to see his slayer's face.

For a moment he thought he died when his view became dark for a moment. He chalked it up to the blood loss.

Yet the crackling also stopped.

"Man-spawn. Get up." Upon hearing her voice Kellam found the strength to at least sit up. There was Panne in taguel form with blood dripping from her claws and mouth. Beside her was the mage's desecrated body; limbs sprawled out in unhealthy angles-if attached at all.

Despite the grisly scene Kellam smiled.

"I thought you promised to stop calling me that."

"You promised to stop being foolish. If I arrived any later I'd be bringing a corpse back."

"Sorry Panne. Thanks for coming."

"Why would I not? You are my husband."

"You make it sound like you were forced into it." Regardless of her rough words Panne approached him, nuzzling him gently with her nose. Had she gone soft after marrying a human? Perhaps. It was the first time during battle she felt her heart twisting itself in half.

He climbed onto her back.

"Sorry for getting blood on your fur."

"That is the least of my concerns. I could smell you dying."

"Was it the burning flesh or the blood?"

"Both. It clouded your scent. Smelled worse than usual."

"Sorry… Again. Hey remember the last time you gave me a ride?"

"You're bleeding. Stop speaking nonsense man-spawn."

She carried him as fast as possible without jostling him too much. Upon arrival Libra focused all his attention to the armored knight. When he removed the damaged armor he recited a short prayer. The mixture of dried blood, white bone, and burnt skin did not sit well with the priest.

The battle was over when Kellam received treatment. By then all there was left was to gather the hoarded supplies hidden within the stronghold. Not long after treatment Robin approached the two with a grim expression. Despite their successful rout it was clear she was not pleased.

"I'm sorry Kellam. I should've noticed the bandits' ringleader left the main fray sooner. The lot here was too disorganized."

"It's not your fault Robin. Who could've expected the boss leaving his station? Normally they don't dare to budge, even in sure defeat." So his opponent was the leader? Now the skill level made sense to Kellam. His heart swelled with pride.

"You're too kind Kellam." Robin smiled weakly. "But I have to take blame here."

"We follow your leadership because we acknowledge your prowess. As our tactician you hold our lives. Do not throw them away."

"Panne…" Kellam winced when he saw Robin's face grimace. He was never one for confrontation.

"No. Let her acknowledge her faults."

"I agree. Just allow me to say one last thing: I don't assign you these duties because I've forgotten or think of you as weak Kellam, I do so because you are the best person for the task."

"Thanks Robin." Kellam said with a slight blush. It was nice to hear someone acknowledge him. Perhaps the Shepards did keep him in their thoughts, at least more than he originally thought.

"Then I will leave you to rest. Panne I trust you'll nurse him back to health?"

"I can assure you he won't die."

"Perfect. Well then, I'll check up on Gaius and see what he's uncovered."

The two were now alone.

"You didn't have to tell Robin that. She beats herself up enough already."

"She acknowledges your skill-and that becomes your concern? After facing death?" Panne lifted his shirt up to apply her personal healing salve to his injuries, not even blushing upon the sight of bare skin or flinching at the black and blue bruises. "I've married a sentimental fool."

"It's why you fell for me, wasn't it?" He said with a grin and blush. Although Panne could keep a straight face, Kellam couldn't while feeling her fingers running along his chest and abdomen.

"A pompous one at that." She applied harder pressure, causing him to wince slightly. Yet the smile did not disappear from his face. This was much better than treating himself with vulneraries.

With Panne around everything seemed to feel alive: mealtimes, training, marches, mornings… she didn't need to speak, just her presence was enough. The two enjoyed living in peace and quiet, they left the limelight for the others.

He gripped her hand.

"If you died, how could I preserve the taguel race?"

"You're amazing Panne. I'm sure you would be able to find someone else, someone better-"

Panne yanked her hand away.

"I can stand a fool but not a weakling." She said firmly. She cupped his face in her hands; he could smell the salve's minty herbs from her fingertips. "I chose you. Where's your pride? You managed to charm the last taguel with your bumbling attitude."

"You're right." He took her hand and held it against his cheek. "I shouldn't have said that. I promise I won't leave you."

"I don't care for liars either." It was the closest she would get to saying: I forgive you. "When will you recover from these wounds?"

"Libra said a month probably. Well it's good the war's done and all… Why?"

"Then in a month we'll try to start our kin."

He blushed from her straightforwardness. But thinking about it more a child became more and more appealing. Certainly he or she wouldn't forget about him. Even though it pained him, he leaned up and gave her a chaste kiss, surprised when she forced her tongue into his mouth (not that he was complaining). She normally wasn't so bold with others nearby, but he quickly learned after marriage Panne could be rather forceful when she wished.

"Prepare yourself till then." She said with a grin.

"A wonderful wife and soon a child… I can't be any happier than I am now. Thank you Panne." He said, a bit breathless. Was it good for his heart to beat so quickly? Right now Kellam couldn't give a damn. "Plus I can't wait to shove this in my brother's face. He always thought I would be a bachelor forever."

"Does he treat you poorly? Should I confront him?"

"Uh… No, it's alright."

* * *

**A/N: **Said this would come out soon... Didn't think it'd be this quick but w/e.

And I'm sorry Kellam for making you the sacrificial lamb in those rare instances I put you in battle. I offer this one-shot as an apology.


	5. The Majestic Griffon

**Chapter Five:** The Majestic Griffon

**Word Count:** 2,681

**Focused Characters/Pairings: **(Robin x Cherche)

**Summary: **So a griffon, a tactician, and a wyvern enter a stable...

* * *

Cherche loved the plot of land Robin and her bought outside of Ylisstol. The capital was a slight flight away with plenty of space for Minerva to roam about. It wasn't Wyvern Valley, but it was the best option possible with living so close to Ylisstol.

'Perhaps Minerva would like tostretch her wings. Honestly, it's too nice not to.'

Although what Cherche liked best would have to be the custom stables she personally designed. The stalls were larger than average and were roomy enough for Minerva to pace. She took the same consideration to building the Minerva's home as she did for her own and it showed with high lofty ceilings and plenty of fresh hay. Minerva deserved no less.

For such a fine stable it was a shame it was empty most of the time. Minerva spent her time hunting rabbits or rolling in the fields. The other times the stalls were occupied were for Gerome's Minerva, or when Morgan brought a mount of her own. If Robin needed to visit the capital he usually took Minerva, a clear indication of approval.

That was why Cherche nearly had a heart attack as she saw hay flung into the air at the farthest stall away. There was also a screeching noise that buzzed about in her ears.

'Did Morgan bring a mount home? Or… Did a neighbor bring their steed in?'

Slowly she approached the stall, hoping it wasn't what she thought it was. A Pegasus or a horse didn't make such a horrid noise and a wyvern would've been seen already.

That meant one thing. After confirming her suspicions she ran off to Robin because there was no way she would've allowed a griffon in the stables.

* * *

"Robin… dear, why is there a griffon in our stables?"

"Oh… I was meaning to tell you, I bought him." Robin said, not even bothering to turn away from his books.

"You what?" The tone in her voice was concerning enough for Robin to turn around, he grimaced upon seeing Cherche's displeased face. It was a rare show of emotion from her.

"Well the creatures themselves are very rare. I found it a good chance to learn more about aerial combat."

"While I've always admired your tactical ability, I will tell you: there is no need to bother learning about griffons because no one has a remote interest in those foul beasts."

"I thought out of the Shepards you would appreciate such a fine, mythical, and rare creature."

"While I can appreciate a wyvern skin's roughness, I don't see the appeal of those half breed abominations with their pointy beaks and squabby legs…."

"Squabby isn't a word dear."

"Well there are no words that can properly describe a griffon. They're horrid." She folded her arms and stared directly at him. Robin shivered.

It was the fearsome part of Cherche he had come to love, a determination that could chill one to the bone. He saw it within his wife always-in battle, in conversation, in intent. There was a quiet storm that brewed insider of her, which was kept tempered… Usually.

However this time Robin laughed. He set his book down onto his desk and leaned upon it for support.

"So what's the punch line for this joke? Tell me so I can join in."

"Well I've never seen you act this way. It's cute."

"W-what?" Her hands moved to her hips, not sure if she was angry, confused, or happy.

"I've always thought you had a bit of a childish side. Who knew it took a griffon to bring it out." He walked towards her, taking her hands. "Even in marriage I learn something new about you everyday."

"Your appeal to women is very strange." She began circling Robin, observing him from head to toe. "A gifted tactician yes. A skilled fighter, I can't deny. However a loving husband…? Well you have your days."

"Does that include today?"

"It's too early in the morning to tell dear." She said with a smirk.

"Well despite how this will affect my standings, I have to ask you-there's no one else."

"Go on." The sharp look returned.

"Teach me how to ride a griffon."

"Is that what your sweet words were for?"

"I mean every compliment I give you. And I'll have you know griffons are very smart. They're sturdier than pegasi-"

"Then how come Cordelia isn't captain of the 'Ylissean Griffon Riders'?"

"And they can outrace wyverns-"

"Oh I wouldn't let Minerva catch you saying that..."

"In conclusion, griffons do have advantages from their mounted counterparts. Now, what is your position?"

"They're dirty, they're rude, and their feathers get stuck in your armor. I know because my parents made me ride one before when they learned about Minerva. That it would make me forget about the scary wyvern."

"And what happened to the griffon?"

"Well after scratching me Minerva… scared her away. Let's put it at that. So if that griffon gets on Minerva's bad side, I can't guarantee his safety."

"… Fair enough. So, you'll teach me?"

"Stick to the tomes and swords. Curiosity killed the cat, and apparently the tactician."

"I swear I wont trade in my cape for a saddle alright? I'm only performing my duty as Chrom's personal tactician."

"You've always said that when you wanted to learn new things. Remember how well it went when Vaike taught you how to wield an axe?"

"Well… Stahl accepted my apology. There was no harm done, just a good scare really."

Robin saw Cherche's expression soften.

"Just think of it as an early wedding anniversary present?"

"I thought we agreed on no presents?"

"Well… That's… We can take back a silly promise like that. I promise…" Robin said with a sly grin. "I'll get you great present. Nothing expensive, I know you don't like that."

"… If you're insisting. I'll teach you all I know so you can become a competent griffon rider."

"Great!"

"HOWEVER, I'm not going into the stable if that griffon's in there. You're responsible for him."

"I can accept those terms. So tomorrow, bright and early?"

"Time for your first lesson: don't wake a griffon up. You don't want to ride an irritable griffon, especially at high altitudes."

* * *

"Now introduce yourself by offering your hand. Don't just get on before introducing yourself, that's rude."

It was noon when the griffon decided to wake up. And he so gladly announced so to Robin and Cherche with a loud cry. Upon taking him out Robin noticed Minerva was nowhere to be seen, but that was fine-she would come back in the evening and he could approach her then.

Robin approached the griffon slowly and bowed, dipping his head to avoid eye contact. After he put his hand out for the griffon to recognize his scent.

"Good, now straight posture… You have to appear bigger. You are the rider. Now keep your hand out, even if he bites."

"What do you mean?!" Robin murmured.

"It won't be that painful-it'll be like a baby teething."

"Does that look like a baby to you?" Robin shout-whispered. The griffon curled its neck around Robin's arm, making quick flighty movements. "He's going to peck my eyes out."

"What a shame, you won't be able to see your wife's face anymore."

The griffon opened his beak, nearly giving Robin a heart attack. He read how griffons caught fish and snapped them in half with their beaks.

'What finger will I lose? My pinky? Thumb? Oh anything but my thumb.'

However all Robin could feel was a gnawing pressure. Cherche's knowledge was impressive.

"It's going okay?"

"Oh yes, it'd be much worse if he didn't like you."

Robin removed his hand from the beak to gently rub the griffon's head. In response he heard a purring noise.

"Great! I think you can ride it now."

"A-are you sure?' But Cherche was hearing none of it and 'helped' Robin get on.

"It's rather simple-don't jerk or pull on his neck. Lean into the direction you want to go. And don't be nervous. Not just griffons, but all animals can sense that."

"Simple enough. Now how do I- AUGHHH!"

"Have fun dear!" Cherche yelled out, smiling.

It was clear Robin had no control over direction. All he could do was hang on tightly. The movements were erratic with quick turns and sharp dives. One moment Robin was above the clouds, the next his foot almost skimmed the ground.

"Okay, okay… Can we go back down now, please?"

As the griffon slowly descended Robin sighed in relief, until he looked in the direction they were heading.

"Woah! Not near the lake. Next to Cherche, you know on the dry ground?"

However his initial command was all Robin was allotted and the griffon playfully glided over the lake. Through the aerial rolls and tailslides Robin found himself hanging upside down, clinging to the griffon's claws.

"BAD! No, go back upright!"

However all Robin could hear was a squawk, was it spiteful laughter?

He could only hold on for so long until Robin felt the hard surface of the lake's surface. He quickly swam back to shore where Cherche stood, smiling.

"That was good for your first ride. I think he really likes you."

"You sure? I wouldn't drop my friends into cold water."

"Well there are other places he could've bucked you off. You know Minerva burnt me when we first met, consider yourself lucky."

"… Noted."

"Why don't you dry yourself off? I'll put the griffon back in the stable."

"No!" Robin said as he got pulled himself up. "I mean, I thought you said you weren't going into the barn with the griffon?"

"You're soaked to the bone and it seems too mean to leave all the chores to you. Besides seeing you ride that griffon reminded me of when I was first learning to ride Minerva. It's endearing to watch."

"It's fine, really. I'll take care of it. In fact I'll do it right now."

"But Robin!"

"Same time tomorrow alright?" Robin hollered as he took the griffon and left nothing but a soggy trail behind him.

* * *

Despite the sore muscles in his back from the week of learning, Robin woke up with a smile on his face. Everything felt perfect, the sun was shining through the window-promising for a perfect day of riding. And right in front of him was his lovely wife.

Without her usual headwear Cherche's hair sprawled in all direction. He pulled a few strands behind her ears while revealing her bare shoulders at the same time. With the summer heat she had opted for a lighter nightgown-one that complimented her form quite well.

'Gods, she's beautiful.'

Ever since Cherche joined the Shepards Robin always felt a connection to her. Perhaps it was her maturity, it was refreshing to talk to her. She seemed so much wiser than her actual age, which was only five years older than him.

Maybe it wasn't love at first sight, but he felt a familiarity. During camp he sought her company and although Minerva intimidated him at first, nothing would deter him from speaking to Cherche, even if it meant playing wyvern matchmaker. Their love grew through the similar search for companionship and understanding, not from mere glances.

In retrospect their story was rather dull compared to the exciting love stories of the other Shepards. Chrom and Olivia had to be the winners in that department, marrying after a meeting on the battlefield. But as he watched how the dancer made his best friend smile after tremendous loss, Robin knew something had to be there.

Although sacrificing himself to rid the world of Grima was exciting in its own right, it made Robin appreciate the ordinary.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Us of course. Happy anniversary Cherche." He gave a light good morning kiss before stepping out of bed while gathering his cloak to cover his torso. Like Cherche, Robin opted for lighter nightwear-or in his case no nightshirt at all.

Cherche in bed, pouted.

"Modest are we?"

"Don't be too disappointed dear-it's only morning after all." He said with a wink. He held out his hand for her. "I promised you a gift, didn't I?"

She grabbed a shawl as Robin led her through the house blindfolded. Soon she smelt fresh hay and carved wood.

"All right, you can look!"

She removed the blindfold to see Minerva smiling, or at least as close as a wyvern could try.

"What's with you Minerva? Normally you're a bit grumpy in the morning."

Minerva snorted, a small puff of black smoke erupted from her nose. She turned sideways to reveal her long body.

"Wait, why are you saddled so early in the…?" Upon closer inspection her usual riding gear was differe. She went to touch the supple leather of the saddle, whose black sheen distinguished itself from Minvera's scales. Engraved throughout the leather strips and saddle edges was a battle between wyverns with smoke and fire between the two.

"Do you like it?" Robin asked. "I know you said your previous saddle gave Minerva a rash so…"

"You made this?" Cherche asked. "Are you a tactician or a leatherworker or a sower?"

"To be honest I had to ask Gaius for help with the sowing. When I tried I just stuck myself with needles. Everything else… Well I read whatever I didn't know, which was a lot."

"This is beautiful." Cherche couldn't stop running her hands along the leather. She felt bad that such a beautiful piece was just going to be sat on.

"Think of this as a gift and an apology for leaving."

"Please Robin, don't punish yourself over that. Ridding the world of Grima was a noble decision, I couldn't be any prouder of your choice."

"None the less, it must have been lonely not knowing if I would return."

"I knew you would return, I just needed to wait and I'm very patient. While there were times I felt your ghost touch or saw the empty side of our bed… Gerome, Morgan, Minerva, and all the Shepards gave me company."

"Well I just wanted to make up for missing our first true wedding anniversary."

"How about we let it slide this time. Thank you Robin, really." Cherche gave him a kiss and hug. "Wait… Where's the griffon? I don't hear his cries. He's not even in his stall. Did Minerva really eat him?"

Robin pulled back from the hug.

"Oh that? Well uh, about that I returned him to his owner… Sumia."

"Really?"

"She bought him for breeding, which is going quite well for her. Anyways I asked to borrow him. To be honest I did look at the price of a griffon… And well let's just say I've found another reason why griffons aren't practical in an army."

"So you borrowed him as a distraction to keep me away from the stables? How did you even know I disliked them?"

"Gerome. Although he said he was left on his own at a young age, he clearly remembered your griffon hate. And when I said I would borrow one, he suddenly declared his departure for Wyvern Valley. Perhaps we need to speak to him about that when he returns... But anyways, it was a good distraction while I made some final fittings."

'Perhaps I wasn't such a bad parent after all…'

"So learning about aerial units…" Cherche tried to bring her straying mind back to focus.

"While valuable, it wasn't quite the truth. Sorry for tricking you dear."

"Well seeing you dropped into the lake should call it even. Watching you ride that griffon showed your points... But no griffon can compare to Minerva."

"And with those swims I came to understand your hatred."

"Never mind that dear, it looks like Minerva's eager to test out that new saddle… What do you say?"

"Uh right now?" He hesitated looking at their sleepwear, but he went with the flow as Cherche pulled him up.

"Okay girl, let's go. And just for fun, let's go around the lake first."

* * *

**A/N: **This one-shot was done at the suggestion of Mzr90. Hopefully you liked it :D

And seriously there are hardly any griffon riders in FE:A. The only ones I can recall are in Inigo's chapter... And there's got to be a reason for it... Right? Seriously did anyone choose to make any of their characters griffon riders?


	6. A Singularity of Light

**Chapter Six:** A Singularity of Light

**Word Count:** 3,000 (Longest one yet!)

**Focused Characters/Pairings: **(Tharja x Libra), Noire

**Summary:** He was the light and Tharja was attracted like a fly.

* * *

The bishop panicked. No one seemed to notice the thick haze that filled the church. The smoke shrouded the stained windows of Naga along the upper walls, preventing sunlight from seeping in. The statues of priests and priestesses looked like shadowed figures waiting to strike. Despite his complaints the Shepards requested him to go on.

Convincing the bishop was easy. Persuading Tharja to let the clergyman preside the ceremony was the hard part. She said he looked shifty (while within earshot of the concerned). In the end Tharja reluctantly agreed out of necessity. Their usual person was unavailable.

With that no one had the heart- or courage to refuse Tharja anything else. So they watched as she drew symbols and lit tall candles on the altar. She left a small place for the bishop's sacred water but it was a small kindness he couldn't recognize. The "Grima" decorations were too distracting.

Tharja sat in the back pew with Noire clutching her arm.

"Noire don't disrupt me with your sniveling."

"S-sorry mother."

"And try to send your father off without snot on your face."

"Yes mother." But every time Noire looked up and saw the coffin, her will crumbled. She tried to hide her crying with Tharja's cloak.

Tharja tried not to roll her eyes. Being compassionate and understanding was hard. She wasn't the affectionate type; that was her husband. If it were anyone else she would've hexed the arm off. The numbness was a slight distraction and so was the bishop's speech (all she heard was blah blah blah). Yet she continued her chants for a parting gift, she just needed the priest to finish.

As he closed his prayer book Tharja slithered up the aisle.

"It's harmless… really."

"Even _if_ you are his wife…" The bishop looked at the corpse and back at Tharja, cocking his eyebrow. This was the first funeral he led for a Shepard (quite the honor). With how the world was now this wasn't unexpected. It was only a matter of time till the next one died-their missions were always suicidal. They needed to see he was capable for their services. So he wasn't going to allow a Plegian sorceress to desecrate the funeral with dark magic. Although on second thought, why was he worried? This role was practically his.

After all he was servicing his predecessor.

"Let her." A voice came from the aisle.

"Lady Lissa!" He bowed quickly.

"You heard the new Exalt… You gonna disobey her?" Without waiting for a response Tharja walked past him, snatching the chalice of sacred water out of his grip. She didn't bother with the clergy; with one exception. She rummaged her cloak for a vial and poured it into the chalice. The two liquids swirled together to form a thicker bluer substance.

Libra looked like he was sleeping. She wanted to slap him awake.

Instead she dipped her thumb into the chalice and drew two parallel lines crossing a circle onto her husband's forehead. It would protect Libra on his journey, to where? Who knew? She usually zoned out when he spoke about spiritual stuff. All she really cared about was that he went somewhere she could finagle her way in later.

When she pulled the blade from her armlet, the priest almost fainted.

"Oh give me a break." She muttered. She stroked Libra's face gently, letting the blade almost touch his skin. Despite the distance there was no protest. Of course there wasn't. Yet Tharja wished for something-pain, tears, or whimpers… She just wanted a response. Disappointed she stroked his hair, took a sizable amount in her hand and cut it off.

She turned to the priest.

"If you remove this seal I'll come back to deal with you." She cackled, yet the priest's horrified face did nothing to lighten her mood. The priest nodded quickly and walked away, perhaps to burn the tainted chalice.

_It's not right to tease people so Tharja._

Even in death her husband still chided her. He was never afraid to do so. Unlike his shaky bishop friend, he embraced her taboo talents. Libra understood, others ran away.

"Thanks." Tharja turned to face Lissa, who was slightly amused. It was… nice having the Shepards around. They accepted her too.

"Libra serviced the other Shepard funerals…" Lissa said while unconsciously twirling her only ring. "The least I can do is this. If you or Noire need anything…"

"I got it."

"… I'm really sorry Tharja."

"Yeah I guess I am too. Can I go?"

"You don't need my permission." Lissa giggled, although the usual mirth in her eyes was missing. Ever since she ascended the throne that seemed to be the case, a side effect from sending friends on suicide missions.

"No. I got what I needed. Besides…." She trailed off looking to the coffin.

'Even in death you can't escape me.'

* * *

"Noire! Come!" Noire raced to her mother's study. This was the first time she heard her in days.

When the door didn't open completely she squeezed through. It turned out open books blocked proper entry. As Tharja paced about the pages fluttered. Half the vials along the walls were bubbling at the rim. To her left something was distilling. To her right a crystal ball showed swirling purple mist. The air was filled with aromas. Noire recognized pond water, butterfly scales, and an unfamiliar scent.

"Mother?"

"I need your hand."

Noire began to sniffle as she removed her glove.

"Oh hush, you know it doesn't hurt." She walked to the fireplace, removing a blade from the boiling cauldron. "This is important. It's for your father."

"Really?"

"Yes. I'm going to summon him. He's got a lot to answer for."

"O-okay."

"Hold onto your talisman."

Noire didn't even flinch as she saw her blood drip into a vial.

"It really didn't hurt!"

"See? You've gotten used to it. Consider it a rite of passage."

"So that means you'll teach me right? I can stay and help you call father?"

Tharja paused. It was the first time she saw Noire recently, longer since seeing her smile.

'She certainly would be very useful…'

_Remember what you said, to leave Noire out of these dangerous hexes? _

Tharja looked toward her daughter… There was _so_ much untapped potential, power she envied herself.

"No. You've helped enough." She looked at the vial. This would suffice.

"But I want to see father!"

"And you will… In time. If you want to help go take some of the children and gather newts by the river."

"W-will you eat with us tonight? Everyone's worried. You haven't stopped working since the funeral."

"Now, Noire. And take your bow." Libra did place protective barriers around the orphanage, but nothing felt safe anymore.

_You should really go talk to the other children. They miss you._

'Shut up. They can handle themselves.'

"Will you at least eat dinner with us? Or should I leave the tray out?"

When Tharja didn't respond Noire found her answer.

* * *

Tharja didn't touch the tray of food by the door. There was too much to do to consider eating. Sleep was also out of the question. The large empty bed wasn't appealing anyways. And what kind of sorceress would she be without bags under her eyes?

Her parents would be ashamed. Well even more so after finding out Libra was a priest. But that was fine. She wasn't looking for approval. Right now her family was probably laughing at her for becoming a widow. But that wasn't important.

It was hard working that night. The steps that were normally so systematic in her head were scrambled with memories. At times she would do a step twice, or skip one completely.

_Perhaps this calls for a break? I won't go anywhere._

Tharja felt her mind teetering, dipping and rising in dangerous swings. If she allowed herself she could let go. To sink into dark abyss and join those who craved power. If she did, just maybe she could get the power to reunite their family's flesh permanently…

"No." She slapped herself. Those were dangerous thoughts; no one was capable of honing such power. Whatever reason, wealth, revenge, or love everyone ended up the same way: dead or worse. The Grimleal fanatics were good examples. They weren't able to convince her to join, though they did recruit her cousin. That was fine, she never liked him anyways.

With her mind tiring Tharja's pace slowed. Soon her legs guided her to a chair. Her arms reached out to a shelf, grabbing a vial containing Libra's locks. His scent still lingered. Perhaps there was a way to recreate it. She could use the remaining strands; she already used what was needed for the summoning.

Did she take too much? He wasn't going to need it anyways…

_ "I'm going to hex all your hair off. You shouldn't have silkier hair than me." Tharja said into Libra's chest. She twirled their hair together with her finger, creating a swirl of light and dark. The rest was loosely tangled with each other, spread over covers and bare bodies. _

_"I highly doubt that." Libra ran his hand through her hair, root to tip as it curved with Tharja's body. _

_"And I'll curse you to me."_

_"Alright." For such a dangerous threat he remained calm. He reached out to kiss her temple, her forehead, her shoulder… whatever skin he laid eyes on. _

_"You don't even know what that means. You're perhaps the best guinea pig I've captured." Her laughter reverberated in his chest._

_"For you Tharja, I'll agree to anything." _

_"You always say that." _

_"I always mean it." Those suffocating sweet words again-she hated hearing them during their courtship. Now? Perhaps over time his sincerity dulled her heart, cutting straight to her ventricles. Those words burrowed and nested in her heart, emanating warmth. She could feel it now it spread to her cheeks._

_"Do I?" She asked. Was he right? He always was. Tharja never knew when it came to love. She could only name her symptoms for Libra to diagnose. "With consideration maaaaybe I would put you ahead of Robin, but only by a rat's tail."_

_"I'd even settle for a beetle wing. I love you too Tharja." Those words again, drenched with good and light. She always tried to avoid them. However he always managed to appear in front of her. Perhaps there was a reason the two were recruited into the Shepards at the same battle. His light counteracted her darkness, creating a balance. Initially she thought they were opposites but that was a crude comparison. _

_Tharja thought she was the manifestation of moonless nights. Libra was the sun, the day she chased after. They were separate entities, destined to circle follow one another. She couldn't believe he harbored such evil within, but it secretly made her happy. It was a similarity, a connection. Yet she wondered: how could there be a shadow within his radiance? _

_Libra became an enigma-much more than a simple priest. Through his gentle words Tharja began to understand, Libra was the dawn. His happiness and sadness drew from each other. He embodied the coexistence of light and dark. It made her think maybe deep down there was light within her as well. _

_"I do see Naga's grace within you."_

_"What hex did you use to read my mind?"_

_"No hex, just a husband's intuition… Do you know when you're in thought you scrunch your eyebrows? It's very alluring." He hummed into her hair. _

_"That's your fetish?" She said, grinning mischievously. She reached out to trace his eyebrows, continuing down to the sides of his cheek and then to tip his chin-or rather dip it so they made eye contact. "I wouldn't expect that from a priest."_

_"Love, everything about you has me enraptured." _

Tharja jolted awake. The moon was still out… She looked around her and sighed in relief, the distiller wasn't finished and nothing had blown up. Strangely the door was ajar… and slightly shaking.

"Show yourself Noire."

Timidly Noire revealed herself, expecting punishment.

"I-I couldn't sleep." Unlike the other children clutching a stuffed animal, Noire held her talisman close to her heart.

"Come." Tharja gestured for Noire to come near. Upon arm's length she pulled her daughter onto her lap. She was still small enough so the weight wasn't uncomfortable. Noire took advantage of the rare sign of affection, wrapping her arms around her mother's neck and hugging her tight. The tears started to fall on their own.

"I know. It sucks." Tharja sighed, stroking Noire's hair, it was a wonderful shade. Patiently Tharja waited until Noire calmed down. Strangely she didn't feel bothered.

"You said I couldn't, but I still want to help."

"I'll let you."

"Really?"

"Yes." Tharja got up and put Noire back onto the chair. "Sit there."

"I can't brew anything? Mix stuff? This seems kind of useless."

"Trust me." Tharja looked at her daughter. Seeing her daughter's face, hearing her voice brought reason and clarity back to her mind. "You're helping more than you could ever imagine."

* * *

Night was almost over but Tharja finished. Noire was giddy as she watched her mother draw a symbol on the ground. The lines began to glow, obscuring her vision slightly.

"Come out Libra, it's the least you can do." Tharja said, completing the last stroke.

This wasn't going to be a conjuring within the mind like Gregor's. This was something much more powerful, complicated, and dangerous.

Perhaps Tharja missed it, but with a blink Libra appeared in front of them. He looked tangible, solid, although a bit shimmery. He didn't even look dead, except for the symbol on his forehead.

"Father!" Noire wanted to run and hug him but stopped. She would only ruin the symbol on the ground.

"It's good to see you Noire." Libra smiled. "How are the other children?"

"Sad. We all miss you."

"Bout time." Tharja huffed, looking disinterested.

"You too dear."

"Yeah, yeah. See all this work I've gone through to summon you?"

"I'm touched you did all this for me. I'm blessed to have such a wonderful wife and daughter."

"Where was that blessing when you got yourself killed?" Tharja said bitterly. Wasn't Naga supposed to help her believers?

"Our fates are our own, Naga can only guide us to the path."

"So you sacrificed yourself?"

"To save that town, yes."

"Even if it meant leaving your family? You shouldn't have bothered me with marriage, or built this stupid orphanage." Everything sounded so wrong, but the words came to easily to Tharja.

Libra wasn't upset. He couldn't be at her.

"Ylisse called for me."

"Doesn't mean you have to answer." Yet Tharja knew she said the impossible. If the Shepards needed her, she would've done the same. All her words came from anger, from her twisted logic. They weren't the words she wanted to say.

Libra's form began to shimmer in and out of vision. Tharja looked for the concoction she just finished.

"Father?!"

"It's alright Noire. There's still time."

"I'm going to curse you, to tie your spirit with us. That's why I summoned you." Tharja said, showing a vial with bright red liquid inside.

"Did you prick Noire again?" Libra sighed.

"It's alright father! It didn't even hurt."

"Pain is the least of my concerns dear."

Noire smiled.

"I wouldn't have to do this you didn't die." Tharja spat. "I'm going to do it. To make you stay."

She removed the cork, ready to encircle Libra with the blood curse.

Libra looked unalarmed.

"Damn it you always have that smug look on your face. I'm really going to do it. It's why I summoned you."

"That isn't why." Libra said with a smile. Although Tharja's methods were unconventional, they certainly did not lack sentiment. Even if she didn't show it, he knew. Contrary to belief, Tharja was very loyal. She accepted him whole-heartedly. It was a comfort and security Libra never knew as a child.

"Then why?"

"To say goodbye." When Libra died Lissa came to her personally, perhaps out of guilt. She explained how Libra stayed until every citizen evacuated. He fought his way to the injured and saved many lives. He was a hero.

None of that meant anything to her. Libra was dead.

"Fuck you." Tharja threw the vial on the ground, rendering it useless. He was always fucking right.

This time the shimmering didn't stop. He walked to the edge of the symbol he stood on, reaching out towards his family.

Noire started to cry.

"Oh Noire, please don't cry. I'll be watching you. Be strong for your mother and the other children, alright?"

Noire nodded. Libra kissed her on the forehead. He turned to Tharja.

"I'm sorry to leave you so dear."

Tharja stood silently. She was tryng to understand the mixture of emotions running through her. They were all so painful: anger, remorse, love…

"You make me fall for you, jumble up my feelings and then leave?"

"I'm sorry Tharja." Libra said with a tear. He was truly a horrible husband. Yet he smiled, he was grateful even for this moment. "I'm quite the heartbreaker aren't I?"

"You're stupid. And I'm stupid for marrying you." Those weren't the words she wanted to use.

"I love you Tharja."

He reached to kiss her. Tharja felt a slight pressure.

"I love you too Libra…." Tharja said with a blush. Libra smiled, a bit surprised. Tharja always managed to surprise him. His form became harder and harder to recognize. Soon the lines faded and charred up, leaving black dust all over the ground.

As empty as she felt, Tharja looked at Noire who was trying hard not to cry.

"Let's get you to bed." Tharja took her by the hand and tucked in her daughter. That night Noire never slept, she watched wide-eyed while babbling nonsense. It kept Tharja up.

Without bothering to change Tharja laid in bed. She stretched her arms, trying to fill the empty space. It pained her realizing the void would always remain. Soon, for a while she could forget about that. Her body was too tired to refuse sleep now.

And as she began to drift off she watched the sunrise outside her window.

* * *

**A/N:** Fun fact for the person who requested this pairing, this was halfway done by the time your review went up. Spooky.

For those who wanted Robin x Olivia, that may take a while-it won't be the next one but I'll keep it in consideration. I'm still working it out in my head.

Finally I don't want to put this in every chapter (It's redundant and I always mean it) but with increase of activity I've seen for this I had to: thank you all for reading! :D


	7. Brawl

**Chapter Seven:** Brawl

**Word Count:** 2,575

**Focused Characters/Pairings: **Stahl, Vaike, slight (Stahl x Cordelia)

**Summary: **In a tavern duel always bet on the Emerald Fighter.

* * *

"I knew we'd end up here. You always come here." Stahl sighed. He sat at the counter while grasping his mug, the frothy liquid inside left un-sipped. He didn't dare, he was following his moral compass that lead him on a path of sobriety and silence. Considering the rowdiness from the other patrons, Stahl was alone in this journey.

"Relaaaax." Vaike said after taking a drink. He looked at his comrade, grinning proudly. "Frederick's not gonna kill us or anything, it's against his knight oath… Yeah?"

"Easy for you to say, he's already put you on dish duty till the end of the century. I on the other hand try to follow his rules, even the dumb ones on that list. You know how hard that is?"

"Really?" Vaike asked with a mischievous smile. He seemed to recall times where the two were 'practicing the harp'... in her tent... at midnight. When Stahl looked off to the side, Vaike laughed. "Oh come on the war's done! We're back in Ylisstol and everythin' is right again. We can't party?"

Vaike raised his mug up for a cheer. Some nearby patrons joined in while Stahl remained still. Well that would certainly explain the behavior from the clientele. Stahl could hardly blame them, how long had it been since Ylisse knew peace? Yet...

"Not when we're on duty! We need to give this letter to the court advisor." Stahl pulled out an envelope from his satchel. "It has the budget apportions? That ring a bell?"

"Is that what I'm hearing in my head? Ugh."

"Oh Naga… Why don't you stay and sober up? I'll deliver it."

"H-hold up!" As if his life depended on it Vaike reached out and grabbed the strap of Stahl's satchel, nearly choking him. Without a moment for reprieve Vaike grabbed a fistful of Stahl's shirt, staring him straight in the eyes. Stahl rolled his. It was hard to take Vaike seriously when he was drunk.

"Hey! Vaike, let go… Please?" Stahl didn't want his shirt to get wrinkled.

"Now you're gonna take a drink and you're gonna like it." With the other hand Vaike clumsily shoved the full mug into Stahl's chest, the contents spilling onto his shirt.

"Oh Cordelia just bought this for me... She said I looked good in it." Stahl tried to dab out the stain. "Great now I reek. Everyone's going to know we went to the taverns now."

"Might as well drink up then." Vaike gave a large smile.

"Clever." With a sigh Stahl took a gulp, hoping it would soothe his bruised ego. How could he let Vaike trick him, while drunk at that? At least the ale was good.

When Stahl brought the mug to his lips for a sip, Vaike tipped the mug up-forcing a chug. "Nu-uh, you gotta go all the way!"

'Whatever I do next, I blame it on the alcohol.'

Stahl grabbed Vaike by one of the chains hanging on his collar piece, lifting the slightly shorter man up from the ground.

"H-hey… What's with the sudden muscle?" Vaike looked down to the ground, slightly impressed. "Wow, ya look so scrawny-who knew ya packed this much heat? You consider ditchin' the armor like the Vaike and show these babies off?"

"Oh I can show you right now…"

"Perfect."

"Wait what?"

"So you did bring your weasel face Vaike." A booming voice garnered the two's attention. The source came from a tall man with no hair on his scalp but a lot of it on his face. In combination with his large frame, he drew the attention of the patrons and a small circle was forming around them. "And this is who you got? A pretty boy?"

"Vaike. What is he talking about?"

"About that, hehehe…"

The bald man gestured to the side. A slighty shorter man stepped out from behind. A scar ran from his left temple to his jaw line. Seeing its jagged outline Stahl didn't want to know how he got it. Scar man also looked like he never smiled in his entire life, which seemed to be the only way he could get his eyes to scrunch up so hard. "My pick? One of Ylisstol's finest street fighters: Scar."

"A fighter. Wait… He is a, and he thinks I'm your… Vaike…. ME?" Stahl nearly shouted in shock. He looked around to find an escape path, but all he could see was a rowdy crowd itching for a fight. In the crowd people were shuffling coins behind backs; people were taking bets. "Oh Naga, Naga why am I here?"

"Relax, you can take this guy on no prob." Vaike said, putting an arm around Stahl. "Now lookie here-this guy's my friend and can surely kick anyone's ass you bring'em!" Vaike's loud voice and confidence got the crowd more worked up.

Stahl started sweating bullets. He whispered loudly into Vaike's ear, "And this why you brought me here? Why ME of all people?"

"Uh… Cause you would say yes?"

Stahl groaned he didn't like that spreading around. Even if it was true, he didn't want to sound like such a pushover.

"Did you ask around first? How about Lon'qu? He's Basilio's fighter right?"

"Tsh. He said he didn't want to fight common thugs."

"Kellam?"

"Couldn't find him."

"Chrom?"

"Oh yeah, that's a smart idea."

"Gregor?"

"Too rich for my blood. Haughty bastard, he drives a steep price."

"Wait, so the ale?" Looking back it was rather strange the bartender handed them free drinks.

"Partly to win ya over, partly to lower your guard."

"Hey! Am I a comrade or a cheap date?"

"You going to fight pretty boy or not?" Scar scowled. He didn't seem pleased to have to face someone like Stahl.

"You're just trying to find any way possible to say ya beat me, aren't ya? Come on, how many times have ya lost?"

"Wait! I didn't even agree to fight yet!"

Vaike turned to Stahl, his face went from confident to pleading.

"The Vaike seriously can't lose to this guy-Baldy always kicks up a fuss. I kick his ass on a regular basis so he doesn't stir up shit. If not for me, just think of it as a Shepard's duty."

Stahl paused. "Wait, is that why you go to the taverns so much? Not for drinks, but to keep the peace?" A bit of vigilante justice… It was kind of stupid, but still noble. That sounded like Vaike.

"Wait… Is that why you come to taverns so often? Not to get a drink, but to keep the peace?" Stahl thought back to every time he saw Frederick reprimand Vaike for his disappearances. It hardly seemed fair now. Every time Vaike would just laugh it off...

"Well I do get free drinks afterwards… And Teach' can't refuse those."

"Ugh." Stahl's mind said no, but when did he ever follow that logic? "How can I say no after what you said? Er, not at the free drinks part."

"Yes alright! Actually I don't know anythin about Scar there, but you can take him."

"You do know I'm only average?" Stahl said plainly.

"Petty boy's quaking." Scar laughed. He made his way to the back of the tavern to a shoddily built ring built from wood planks. He cracked his muscles as he walked through the crowd. Everyone made way. At times the man would leer at someone or spit on the ground.

"Charming." Stahl muttered.

"You gonna fight? Or you gonna stay there all day, pretty boy?"

"Don't breathe a word of this to Cordelia." Stahl said, as he made his own way through to the back.

"Wait." Stahl turned around, only to see Vaike reaching for the hem of his shirt. He already had Stahl's satchel resting on the bar counter.

"W-what are you?" With a swift movement Vaike pulled the shirt off, earning a few swoons from the barmaids and whoops from the drunks.

"Ya got ale on it already… You probably don't want blood on it too."

"Wait, blood? Is it really going to get that messy?"

"Go get'em pretty boy." Vaike shoved him off through the crowd.

Within the ring, everyone's glares felt piercing. Stahl shifted from rubbing the back of his head to crossing his arms, trying to keep some modesty. He couldn't see Vaike in the crowd. Only cheering patrons and barmaids blowing kisses.

"Over here pretty boy, I'm your opponent."

"Alright. Uh, I've never done something like this before… Uh, let's have a good fight?"

Scar immediately went for a punch, ignoring whatever Stahl had to say. There was no time to be offended; Scar was winding up the next punch.

'The ribs!'

Stahl brought his arms close to his sides, blocking the impact.

"So pretty man's got a few moves!"

"Can you stop calling me that?" Stahl blocked another jab, then jumped back. As long as he had a clear view on Scar, it was easy to tell the next strike. Reading faces certainly had its upsides. Scar was strong; Stahl felt it in his blocks… But he was certainly no match for what he faced during the war. A mad kings? Undead Risen? A street thug is nothing.

"I'll break through whatever guard you put up!" The next blow came to the chest, and as Stahl felt himself pushed back, Scar wasn't bluffing. He felt the wood barrier pressing on his back.

Scar aimed for the face. It was a logical choice to make after pinning Stahl to the edge. Yet he failed to consider a simple sidestep. Stahl dodged the blow and maneuvered his way to the center. With breathing space Stahl feigned right, then left, delivering quick blows in succession each time.

The momentum was shifting. Scar's swings became wilder, bolder, and easier to dodge. His body language was too obvious now. After blocking a swing to the side Stahl aimed square in the chest. It was enough to make Scar recoil and gasp for breath, allowing Stahl to lock him in a choke hold.

"Do you yield?" Stahl asked. He applied pressure gently, yet Scar didn't stop squirming. The crowd was yelling for a final blow. With no other choice Stahl tightened his grasp and released when Scar lost consciousness. He put him in the corner. The cheers felt pretty good.

Yet once he stood up, he felt a flash of blinding pain and crumpled to the ground.

He tried to open his eyes, but they stung too much. All he could see were blurs of colors angrily clashing with each other. He wiped his face as best as he could, his hand felt damp. It wasn't sweat; licking his lips Stahl tasted hard liquor.

"Stahl! You alright?" He could faintly hear Vaike from the crowd's hissing.

"Wake up pretty boy." Stahl felt himself lifted by a firm grasp over his throat. He didn't need to see to know his captor was. "After seeing how well you took care of my friend, I felt obliged to fight you myself."

Stahl felt the grip on his throat loosen as he felt the tavern's hardwood once again. Well despite the headache, at least now he could make out distinct shapes. The towering outline of Baldy enveloped Stahl's vision. "Get up."

'If I don't do anything now, he's going to squash me like a bug.' At least he had time to think. Stahl tried to delve down a new line of logic, as he tried to imagine himself as a common bandit. He tried to think of every dirty trick, every backhanded hit he could think of. It was the only way to comprehend his opponents' fighting style.

He swung his legs out, knocking the Baldy onto the ground. Using the few moments he had Stahl got up and searched the railings. "Sorry." Stahl said as he took a glass of water and splashed it on his face. It was enough to clear his vision and get back in the fight.

The bald man got up looking slightly amused.

"Nice trick."

"Well, I had to thank you for the drink." The two circled each other. Now the crowd was going wild, this had to be the best tavern brawl ever. Who knew the unknown fighter could display such a strong showing? Vaike was flashy and entertaining in his own right, but the new kid had finesse.

Stahl landed punch after punch, with some kicks in as well. However the damage was lacking, enough so that Baldy let the attacks through. However Stahl couldn't do the same, one hit from Baldy and he'd be snoozing in the corner with his best bud. You can't just hit a brick wall…

'You take down the foundation first.'

Stahl focused on Baldy's movements, ignoring everything else.

'Okay, he's planted his left foot. He's punching with the right. With how's he's looking at me, he's going for the face for sure.'

When he saw the windup Stahl ducked and moved behind, allowing for an easy kick to the back of the knee. As Baldy crumpled Stahl punched him straight in the nose. Baldy wasn't the only one capable of a one hit KO. Instantly everyone cheered and rushed around the victor, giving praises and drinks. Vaike had to push through to get a word in.

"Told ya you could do it. Teach' is never wrong."

"I guess you're right." Stahl said as he wiped the bald man's blood off his hand with a rag. "I'm glad I didn't get blood on my shirt."

Vaike offered said piece of clothing. Stahl took no time putting it on, much to the dismay of the ladies in the crowd.

"Hey I'm going to take this." Vaike said, holding up the satchel. "To that dude."

"Wait, I'm coming too."

"No, you're gonna stay and enjoy the free drinks. Besides, you wanna meet some fancy court person smellin' like booze? Baldy sprayed you with some strong stuff. I'll come back afterwards."

"… Alright." There was no use arguing there. And honestly he wasn't going to try hard to be in the right.

"Oh, and Stahl?" Vaike said, looking over his soldier.

"Yeah?"

"With fights like those-there's no way you're just average." Stahl smiled. Although he disagreed, the sentiment was enough.

* * *

Vaike didn't do scared. His knees were shaking because he drank. Carrying Stahl back to his place made him sweat. And the funny feeling in his stomach was because he was hungry.

"So why is my husband passed out drunk in broad daylight?" Cordelia asked, her foot was tapping the ground and her arms were crossed around her stomach. It was as if she was scolding a recruit.

"Oh, hey Cordelia… Wow, your stomach keeps getting bigger and bigger every time I see ya."

"I'm flattered." She said with a sigh. "I suppose I should let you in."

She led him to the bedroom, where Vaike dumped Stahl onto the bed.

"He smells like cheap liquor." She pulled the covers over him and created a mental note to make him change the bedding when he sobered up.

"Don't yap at him about this, I tricked him into it." Cordelia looked unsurprised. "I-If Frederick asks cover for him alright? Just use me as the scape goat."

Vaike looked like he was going to piss himself and that was enough. That and the grin Stahl kept in his sleep. Whatever happened, it was worth it to see such a smile.

"Noted."


End file.
